


Distress Call

by Kahvi



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Message repeats. This is an emergency beacon dispatched from the mining ship Red Dwarf by Jim Lister. Request immediate assistance. Possible child kidnapping. Message repeats. This is an emergency beacon dispatched from the mining ship Red Dwarf by Jim Lister. Request immediate assistance. Possible child kidnapping. Message repeats...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distress Call

My name is Jim Lister. I'm on board the mining ship Red Dwarf... well, _a_ mining ship called Red Dwarf, I suppose... and I'm being held against my will. If you're hearing this, please come pick up me and my brother.

I don't know if anyone will ever come. I'm not recording this for anyone, to be honest. I'm recording it for me. If I keep reminding myself; if I keep remembering, then maybe everything will be normal again, and they'll stop nagging me, and telling us there's something wrong with us. There's nothing wrong with us except that we're not where we want to be.

I am 18 years old. I remember my 18th birthday party; mine and Bexley's. Kryten fussing, and tables full of food, and those ancient paper hats and balloons Dad always gets out. Bex kept sighing quietly and whispering how much he hated it, but I knew that wasn't true. And Dad coming in with that special crate of lager that he'd found a while back, giving us a crowbar to break it open. It took _ages_. He stood there grinning all the while, telling us how it'd been stored in a stasis-facility that didn't work properly, so time had only slowed instead of stopping entirely. I didn't see why that mattered so much until we finally got a can out. I'll never forget that smell; acrid and fizzy and smacking yer face with itself; the slowed time had done something wicked and amazing with the fermentation. You got drunk just sniffing it.

And then, much later, when none of us could stand up properly, uncle Arn came in and pulled Dad to his feet! I've never seen him so absolutely infuriated; it was like there was steam coming off his uniform and out of his ears. I couldn't make out what they were saying; I could barely make out my own thoughts at the time; but there was something in there about 'boys' and 'irresponsible'. There usually is, when Dad and uncle Arn fight.

I think they made up later that night, 'cause I remember both of them tucking me in, pulling my boots off and lingering by the bed even though they didn't think I could see them there. Dad kissed the top of my head, and later, when they'd left, uncle Arn came back in and did it too. And then...

It makes no sense. I can remember everything up until that point like it was a film inside my head, but then the film sort of... jumps. Like a video that someone tried to mend with sticky tape, only it didn't work properly, so that bits of the film are just missing. If I could get those bits back, maybe I would understand.

Bexley says I shouldn't think about this stuff; that I should just accept what's happened and move on, but I'm not like him. We only look the same on the outside, and not even that so much, anymore. Sometimes though, when he thinks I'm not looking, I see him standing in front of the mirror, saluting himself. He misses them too.

I've always had a good memory. Better than Bex, though he'd never admit it. I did really well in school, even with the boring stuff. You just read it, and make a bit of effort so you remember it. No big deal. Dad always said he never bothered to make an effort in school, because it seemed so dull, and he couldn't see the point of it when he could just as easily quit and make some money. He said he regretted it now though, and he was worse about homework than uncle Arn was. Uncle Arn just didn't quit. He sat up with Bex for hours, trying to teach him basic astronavigation, and when Holly told Bex he'd passed, Uncle Arn sort of flickered and went all staticky. I think Dad had to turn him off and on again, in the end. Bex was well happy; he actually cares about that stuff. I never have. But like I said, I've got a good memory.

They've tried to explain it all; Deb, and Arlene, and that Kryten that isn't Kryten. He's - she's - it's so hard to think about. Sometimes I get headaches. Sometimes my nose bleeds, and Holly makes me take these pills that make it better for a while. But I don't like it; they make me forget. I don't want to forget. They tell me what I'm remembering isn't real, that it's just my brain trying to make sense of growing up too fast in the wrong universe. Bex even sat me down and drew a diagram - he's good at diagrams. They said that something went wrong, when we were born in Dad's universe, that we didn't belong there. We got out of sync with the spacetime continuum. There's - Bex drew a lot of circles inside one another to explain that one - there's, like, lots and lots of tiny universes all curled up inside themselves, like, and when you move from one to another, it messes you up. Well, me and Bex moved from one to the other when we were just embryos, not even born. I don't know; I'm probably not explaining it right. But that's what they're saying; that our bodies started growing too fast for our brains. And because we were sort of... from two different places at the same time, we could see things that hadn't really happened, but that _might_. Like what would happen if we'd grown up the right way, with Dad and Arn.

But we didn't. That's what they're saying. They're saying that never happened; that it's only what _would_ have happened.

I say they're a bunch of smeg-

Bex is yelling at me again. He's saying the recording is getting too long and whiney. I don't care. He doesn't get it; he doesn't care. I care. I remember.

I remember Dad and uncle Arn getting married. Me and Bex all in white tuxes, Kryten crying all the way through the ceremony. It was up in the observation deck, and even uncle Arn let us stay up as long as we liked that night.

I remember Dad teaching me to cook. I remember my first beer, which was long before I turned eighteen, I can tell you that, for one.

I remember Bex learning to swim, and how funny uncle Arn looked with his projection all distorted in the water.

I remember Dad showing us Kris's room, and telling us all about her. I remember the first time Cat made me a proper leather jacket, just like Dad, and that strange sort of sound he made at the back of his throat when he worked on things for me and Bex, and dressed us up. I think he liked it. Dog says we smell wrong. He hides from us.

Look, if it's not real, then how come I'm remembering it? If it _could_ have happened, then maybe it did, somewhere. And if it did, that's where we belong, right? Not here. I don't know these people. Deb isn't my dad, no matter how many times she says she is. Dad sings us to sleep and stays up with me when I can't. Uncle Arn doesn't shout and make faces like Arlene does. Dog is right; we smell wrong. Everything smells wrong.

My name is Jim Lister, and this is a distress call. If you get this, please come find me and my brother. We want to go home.


End file.
